


Angry People Are Not Always Wise

by crazychelseablue



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazychelseablue/pseuds/crazychelseablue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot inspired by the quote "Angry people are not always wise" from Pride and Prejudice.</p><p>“Because love isn’t enough, Danny! It’s just not enough! I’m sick of this fucking city! I’m sick of these fucking people! I’m sick of this fucking house! And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to be fucking sick of you!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry People Are Not Always Wise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but this idea just popped into my head and so I ran with it. It's the first oneshot I've ever written that I'm actually kind of proud of.
> 
> Credit to sir-nando on tumblr for giving me the idea to write fics based on quotes. She actually has one for this quote, too, though it's somewhat different (and really great so you should read it)

“I don’t know, Dan!” Fernando screamed at the Dane standing on the other side of their living room. He had to stop himself from throwing something as he felt the strong urge to destroy. He wanted to make something feel the pain he was feeling, make something as broken as he was. “I just feel so suffocated here!”

“Suffocated?!” his boyfriend screamed back. “It’s not that small of a city! Why the hell do you feel so fucking suffocated?! This house isn’t exactly small either, so what’s so fucking suffocating?!”

“I don’t fucking know!” both their faces were getting red from all the screaming, and this time, Fernando couldn’t resist the urge to kick the couch hard enough that he thought he heard the frame crack. They’d had this fight a few times before, but he could tell that this time was somehow different. “I just can’t take it anymore! Just the people and the buildings and the accents and the fact that everything fucking here is all the fucking same all the goddamn time! Every street looks the same! Every building looks the same! Even the people all look and act and sound the fucking same! Nothing ever changes! There’s no diversity to anything! Everything is always just... the same! And I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

“None of that ever seemed to bother you before! You’ve been here for three and a half goddamn years! Why do you suddenly hate this place so much?! What’s so fucking different now?!”

“It’s not all of a sudden! If you ever paid any fucking attention you would know that! I’ve been hating this place for months! Months! You’re with me all the time and you never even fucking noticed! I’m your fucking boyfriend, you’re supposed to know what’s going on with me! You’re supposed to notice things! For fucks sake you’re supposed to pay attention!”

“I do pay attention! I always pay attention!”

“Clearly, you don’t!”

“You know what, I’m not in the mood to deal with all of your shit right now, Fer! Did you ever think about that?! That maybe the reason I stopped paying attention is because I knew that nothing I could do would ever make you happy anymore?! And why is that, Fer?! Why is it that I’m suddenly not enough?! I thought I was enough! For fucks sake, you always told me that I was enough! Jesus fucking christ, Fer, you mean fucking everything to me! Why can’t I mean everything to you?!”

“Because love isn’t enough, Danny! It’s just not enough! I’m sick of this fucking city! I’m sick of these fucking people! I’m sick of this fucking house! And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to be fucking sick of you!” Fernando ran his hands roughly through his hair. Grimacing as he spun and kicked another piece of furniture, hoping that enough physical pain might be able to distract him from the shattering inside his chest.

“Fine then! It’s clear that there’s nothing I can do to make you happy! If you’re so fucking sick of me then why don’t you you just fucking leave?! Just leave and never fucking come back! You can go to Manchester, or London, or even go back to fucking Spain! I don’t fucking care! Just fucking leave already!” Daniel fought back the tears that threatened to spill out. He was not going to cry. Not now.

“Maybe I will!” Fernando screamed, before storming out of the house. He never looked back after that. Not as he told the manager that he wanted out. Not as he drove to London. Not even as he signed the contract that sealed his fate. Not once did he look back, because he knew that if he did, he would finally have to acknowledge the gaping hole in his chest where Danny used to be.

* * *

 

Fernando stared down at the shirt in his hands. It was the wrong color. The back said ‘Torres 9’ but it wasn’t his. He stared at the crest. That was wrong, too. It was all wrong.This shirt, it was not his own, would never be his own. He shed a single tear before pulling the shirt over his head and making his way to the tunnel. Chelsea’s number 9.


End file.
